ROYAL HIGHNESS

44. Nayi kahani

Silence had settled around them like a thick blanket—comfortable, close, unbroken. Amyardh lay flat on his back now, one hand behind his head, the other resting loosely beside Ovie’s. She lay curled toward him, eyes closed, breathing calm, yet awake. It was that kind of silence that didn’t need words. That soft, still kind that came only after a long evening of laughter, confessions, and a thousand shared glances.

But suddenly—just like that—Amyardh sprang up.

“Bas ho gaya. Utho,” he said, clapping once as he stood, his tone abrupt but playful.

Ovie opened one eye, confused and annoyed. “Kya? Kahan jaa rahe ho tum?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out and tugged her hand lightly. “Tum bhi chalo. Jaldi ready ho jao. I’m taking you somewhere.”

“*Abhi?*” she asked, frowning as she propped herself up on one elbow. “*Are you serious?* It’s midnight!”

“So?” he smirked. “*Bas chalo.* Trust me.”

She stared at him, reading his eyes for a beat, and then gave in with a sigh. “*Fine.*” She rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but a smile was already curling at her lips.

“Date?” she asked cheekily while tying her hair up.

“Date?” he repeated, pretending to be scandalized. “*Off course not.*” He added quickly, almost too quickly. “*Ya maybe?* God knows,” he said with a small, crooked grin.

They both laughed.

---

A little while later, the two emerged into the cool night, disguised beneath matching white hoodies. The caps pulled over their heads shielded their faces partially, adding an extra layer of secrecy to their quiet adventure. The streets were calm, lamplight casting soft golden halos on the footpath. A few stray dogs barked in the distance. Everything else was still.

They didn’t take the car. Amyardh insisted they walk—a ten-minute stroll, he promised. The breeze was cool, the kind that gently lifts your hair and teases your skin, and their steps were slow, casual. Ovie kept glancing at him sideways, amused by how childishly excited he looked.

After a short walk, they reached a little restaurant tucked between two shuttered boutiques—a quiet, rustic place with soft yellow lighting, wooden furniture, and vines creeping along its walls. The name was barely visible in cursive script on the faded signboard above.

It wasn’t fancy. No reservations needed. But it had charm—the kind that couldn’t be bought.

“Amy... this place…” Ovie whispered, looking around as they entered.

“I know,” he replied with a smile. “*Hidden gem.* Discovered it by chance months ago. Always wanted to bring someone worthy here.”

He opened the door, and the faint chime of bells above it jingled as they stepped in. A mellow tune floated through the speakers inside—a Hindi lo-fi version of a romantic track—and the soft scent of baked garlic and fresh basil filled the air.

Without hesitation, Amyardh walked ahead and pulled out a chair for her.

Ovie blinked, caught off-guard.

“*Aaj gentleman mode mein ho?*” she teased as she sat down.

“Always,” he winked and pushed her chair in gently before seating himself opposite her.

They ordered a thin-crust Margherita pizza with extra cheese, a side of herbed fries, and mocktails—his a virgin mojito, hers a berry cooler. The waiter disappeared, leaving them alone in their dimly lit corner.